How to spend a weekend in Riga

In Ratslaukums, Riga’s central square, there is an ugly brutalist building which encapsulates the contested history of Latvia’s beautiful, battered capital. This modernist eyesore was erected in 1970, when Latvia was part of the Soviet Union. It was built as a museum dedicated to Lenin’s crack troops, the Red Latvian Riflemen, who helped him overthrow the Tsar and win the resultant civil war. Without them, the Russian Revolution might have been stillborn.

Today the content of this museum is completely different. The only relic of the Latvian Riflemen is the Soviet statue in the street outside. Now this building houses the Occupation Museum, which tells the story of Latvia’s Nazi and Soviet subjugations: by the Soviets from 1940 to 1941, by the Nazis from 1941 to 1944, and by the Soviets (again) from 1944 to 1991.

It hardly sounds like a barrel of laughs, but in fact it’s surprisingly uplifting. You’re confronted by a catalogue of totalitarian brutality, but there are also numerous accounts of courage and resistance. And incredibly, against all odds, this is a story with a happy ending. Despite the Communists’ best efforts to subsume them into the Soviet Union, the Latvians retained their sense of nationhood, and then in 1991 something amazing happened: the USSR collapsed, and Latvia regained her independence.

Riga feels like a young city, the capital of a country that’s barely 30 years old (at least in its current incarnation), yet its antique architecture confirms this is an ancient place. It was founded by the Teutonic Knights in the 12th century, and in the cobbled alleys of its medieval old town you get a strong sense of its Germanic roots. But that cluster of gingerbread houses is just a small part of this diverse city. The Art Nouveau district is one of the biggest and best preserved in all of Europe. There are countless architectural styles, and every building has its own backstory: Riga’s European Art Gallery used to be the stock exchange; Riga’s Grand Palace Hotel used to be a bank.

The reason Riga is such an exotic mishmash is because Latvia has been conquered and colonised so many times, by Russians, Germans, Swedes and Poles, and every invader has left their mark. The bustling central market is housed in five huge Zeppelin hangers, built by the Germans during the first world war; the Splendid Palace cinema is a flamboyant monument to Latvia’s first period of independence, between the wars; the colossal Academy of Sciences was a postwar ‘present’ from the Soviet Union; shiny new skyscrapers mark Latvia’s liberation at the end of the Cold War.

I first came to Riga in 2011, to cover the 20th anniversary of that liberation. I was astonished by what I found. It was hard to believe this dynamic city had ever been part of the USSR. Barely 20 years before, private enterprise of any sort had been practically illegal. Now the streets were lined with shops and cafés. But the most impressive thing was the people. The Latvians I met were full of ideas, so open and optimistic. Like any city in the Eastern bloc, it had a few rough edges, but for somewhere that had been under the Soviet yoke for nearly 50 years, the rate of progress was remarkable. Riga had endured the worst of times. Now its luck had turned.

That can-do attitude runs in Riga’s blood. Throughout the Middle Ages it was a leading member of the Hanseatic League, that confederation of northern freeports which looked out towards the wider world. It enjoyed commercial and cultural links with other Hanseatic Ports all around the Baltic. It was a cosmopolitan city, built on maritime trade. Its key players were canny merchants rather than pampered aristocrats. Its busy bars and shopping malls attest to the restorative power of commerce. Even half a century of Russian Communism couldn’t snuff out its mercantile spirit.

Riga used to have a reputation as a stag party destination, but since Latvia joined the euro prices have caught up with western Europe, and most of those revellers have moved on. The nightlife is still lively, but the city no longer feels quite so raucous. And the food is a lot better too. The first few times I came here, the kindest description of the local grub was ‘hearty’. Meat and two veg, meat and two veg… filling and nourishing, but terribly heavy. This time around, I ate the same traditional dishes, all delivered with a much lighter touch. The beer is uniformly excellent, and if you fancy a more unusual tipple, try a shot of Black Balsam, the local liqueur. Last time I sampled it, I thought it tasted like cough mixture, but what do I know?

And if the city becomes too hectic, you can always escape to the seaside. The beach resort of Jurmala is less than half an hour away by train (Majori is the main station). Jurmala actually consists of half a dozen different resorts, strung out along a 12-mile strip of silver sand, but they’re all much of a muchness, and despite their different names they merge into each other. It’s easy to walk between them. The architecture is attractive – ornate wooden villas, many of them dating back to Tsarist times – and there are loads of good places to eat and drink.

The best thing about Jurmala is there’s no road along the coast. The seashore is flanked by thick forest which runs right up to the beach. Almost all the houses are hidden in the woods. I ate a delicious fish supper at 36 Line, a chic restaurant that looks out across the Baltic. There were children paddling in the shallows. It felt like a peaceful, contented place.

I spent my last night at Villa Joma, a homely hotel a short walk from the seafront. Next morning, I left for Estonia, but that’s another story. The last I saw of Riga was the delicate spire of St Peter’s church, and the squat tower of its cathedral. It’s the same view those Hanseatic sailors would have seen as they sailed in and out of Riga all those years ago, bound for Stockholm, Bremen, Amsterdam, and on to London. For half a century, this extraordinary metropolis was shut away behind the Iron Curtain. It feels like one of the great blessings of my lifetime that it’s an international city once again.

Baltic Holidays is a British travel company with a passion for the Baltic States, a deep knowledge of the region and close connections with the best local guides. Air Baltic fly direct from London Gatwick to Riga, from €49 each way, including taxes.